wash with similar colours
by yllimilly
Summary: Having become Yuugi's widow, Anzu leaves Domino behind in an attempt to build a new life for herself. When an attractive man crosses her path and wedges his way into her heart, Anzu begins to doubt what she really wants from life, and for herself.
1. uprooted

**wash with similar colours**

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peachshipping anzu x yuugi

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drama, post-canon, oc

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**uprooted** (1/4)

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Anzu breathed in the scent of fresh paint. She'd picked a blueish kind of white, which made her new place look clean. Cleansed.

The building manager walked up to her from the bathroom. "Everything okay?"

"Yes," replied Anzu, grabbing the keyring that was being handed to her. "I've decided to hire handymen after all."

The manager smiled. "Good idea. You'll be needing some rest," she told Anzu prudently. "Moving day gets more taxing everytime."

Anzu pondered for a moment the meaning behind this trivial statement.

Yes, settling here would be taxing indeed. But it was also necessary.

A matter of life or death. So to speak.

"Thank you for the keys. I'll see you next seek, I guess."

They locked the door. Behind them, a promising void, barren, waiting to be dirtied and warmed up and lived in. By her.

And her alone.

.

She spent the four remaining days packing silverware, photos, DVDs in a strangely serene peace of mind. This Domino home, that she was about to leave, had become a haven of sorts now that it was deconstructed and thus, unrecognizable.

Small suppers and parties were made in her honor. "I'm not going forever," she'd tell her friends, "I'll be coming back," and everyone around the table would start laughing nervously, like part of her had in effect been taken along when she took the decision to move away from Domino.

She was given a brand new set of tableware, some nice potted plants. Miho made her gorgeous curtains to hang over her windows - because "those blue blinds will be ghastly to stare at, she claimed. You need to bring the sun's warmth into that tiny little place of yours." Honda couldn't, either, come with terms with the fact that Anzu was letting her beautiful family home be rented to strangers all the while storing herself away in a condo the size of a shoebox, a whole hour's drive from here.

"It's not that small," she kept telling them. And the _'shoebox'_ has a closed bedroom, so you have no reason not to stay over, either."

On Tuesday, she got up at five, having only gleaned a couple hours' worth of sleep. She sat on a wooden chair that her mother had probably sat on once, some thirty years ago, to breastfeed her. Light rain tapped the windowsills. Birds would chirp loud enough to wake her at this time of day, but that was before the old oak tree was cut off.

Anzu's icy fingers tightened around the burning coffee mug.

In other circumstances, she could have been the one sitting in this rocking chair, breastfeeding a baby, her own, lulling him or her to sleep.

She laid down the cup on a nearby cardboard box, wondering why she had made coffee in the first place. She'd arrange to box the coffee machine at the last minute, but forgot where she'd packed the sugar, and there was no milk in her empty fridge.

When she woke again her neck felt sore, and the raining had stopped. The view in the window before her was obstructed by a moving truck.

The doorbell rang.

She picked her woolen shawl from where it fell off, at her feet, and drowsily walked to the door.

"Ms Mazaki?"

"That's me," she smiled welcomingly to the three men lined up on her front lawn. "Do you guys drink black coffee?"

.

The whole moving ordeal was over about an hour or two earlier than originally planned. More than once, and on a whim, she asked that some boxes be stored away in the cellar rather than brought along with her. Photos. Some books. Duel Monsters figurines. A whole stack of dresses in their dry cleaner envelopes. Even bedding. In the cellar, she discovered a stroller that Miho had passed on to her. Anzu let the youngest handyman take it. He accepted humbly, not knowing whether he should ask more about it. In the end, he didn't.

The paint had dried out in her new condo but the scent lingered on. It reminded her the one time Sugoroku had hired her and Jounouchi to give the game shop a makeover during the summer between grade eleven and grade twelve. She'd gotten paint in her hair and ruined an old pair of sneakers. They had been paid in Duel Monsters booster packs. And Yuugi had burned the brownies he'd tried to bake for them, because he had been (in secret) putting together a new deck for her, and completely forgot about the sweet brown paste swelling in the oven.

She laid down, arms and legs sprawled, on the bare, new mattress she had had delivered here the day before. She blankly looked out the bare windows, staring at the red brick walls on the building opposite to hers for the longest time, and softly cried herself to sleep.

.

To her surprise, Anzu woke up a few minutes before noon.

She had slept in, despite the overwhelming brightness of the room, and was welcomed by a brutal headache when she sat up. She dragged her feet to the bathroom, where she drank lukewarm water straight from the tap until her stomach felt bloated from it.

The water in this city didn't taste too bad. She looked up in the mirror and took a good look at her face.

The cool, artificial glow of the compact fluorescent light bulb droning above her head, brought up to her attention a number of small flaws she hadn't noticed before. Of course, her eyes had been red from crying. But there were, in various places on her face, little, tiny creases and bumps marking, not unlike the growth rings on the severed trunk of the oak tree, the weight of years passed and of the trials of life.

She splashed her face with colder water. Walked out of the washroom. Her feet felt like they had overheated from the warmth trapped overnight in her little black socks, so she took them out an tossed them carelessly, almost playfully on one of the taller box piles. Sore from having slept in her jeans and bra, she undressed, throwing each garment in a different direction. They looked like lifeless black limbs twisted in unnatural angles on their cardboard pedestals, like fragments of silhouettes.

Completely naked, she let her back slide against one of the walls until she sat on the naked floor, enjoying the cold surface against her skin.

"So this is my new home," she declared to herself, to nobody in particular.

It was a bright, overcast sky out. Maybe she could take a walk before unpacking.

Buy jam, bread and milk. She needed to plug in the refrigerator, first.

.

_tbc_

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_social butterflies (2/4)_

_domestication (3/4)_

_let me tell you about the birds and the bees (4/4)_


	2. social butterflies

**wash with similar colours**

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peachshipping anzu x yuugi

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drama, post-canon, oc

.

**social butterflies** (2/4)

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Small, pale male hands roamed on her body. And at every limb they touched, Anzu shivered. The fingers felt warm but her skin felt cold, so at every touch she grabbed the stranger's wrists to take their hands off her. She was then abruptly aware that her skin was scaly and gleamy like that of a crocodile.

_Except that crocodiles probably don't have skin like that_, was Anzu's first tought as she woke from her strange dream. A fraction of a second later, she realized - decided? acknowledged? - whom these hands belonged to.

_Don't. _

_Don't think about him. _

_There's no _him _anymore. _

Anzu rolled over so she could face the partially open window. Her ocean blue satin sheets were entangled in her legs.

The soft jingle of a bike bell rang three stories below.

Better get up and get a few things done, Anzu told herself as she sat up, rubbing her eyes.

.

Exactly seventy two hours and five coffee shops later, Anzu was standing in a lunch room with the new coworker who had been blessed with the task of touring her through the office.

"Les really gets upset if we don't use the splash screen," the girl said in a lower voice, throwing glances left and right. "I won't blame you if you don't, I mean, it's really gross."

It was. Anzu giggled.

"I'll show you the copier. I'm really good at paper jams if you need me," Susie - the girl - offered as she walked out of the lunch room.

In silence they walked towards the blank hallway that would lead them, presumably, to the copier room. The girl's heels clicked as loudly as heels can on industrial rug. "That's Steve's office but he's not in," whispered Susie as they walked past a door with a narrow window plastered with memos and workplace comic strip taken from the internet, presumably on paid time, and presumably printed from the office's printer. "Steve helped Stan a lot with big clients."

Stan was the man Anzu owed her temporary job to; she was filling in his paternity leave. Susie had explained in detail how difficult his wife had fought cancer two years ago and unexpectedly difficult her pregnancy was.

Anzu had doubted at first that she could memorize all her new coworkers' names, but the girl who gave her the tour was quite a good storyteller and Anzu felt like she had more info on these people than they'd ever give her themselves.

.

The job Anzu had inherited was easy despite her lack of familiarity with all the files she had to follow up on. She had done something similar for the three first years of her employment in the small firm she worked at in Domino City. Of course, she had to assume more responsibilities there, so the job was more rewarding, which might not be the case here. But Anzu hadn't left Domino for a more rewarding job.

She sought a change of scenery.

This was a slightly bigger company, with thirteen offices across the country, and so tasks were more fragmented and more specialized. She actually had less work to do here on each file. But after two weeks on the job, she was starting to find, much to her relief, that the job was repetitive.

This was what she thought she'd need, to get Domino and all its memories out of her mind. Just focusing on the task at hand.

That... would work, would it not?

She was fiddling with a Post-it, thinking about a new, more efficient way to classify the files without confusing her coworkers, when Susie opened the door to her own, small but well situated office.

"Wow. You look bored."

Anzu chuckled. "I was just thinking. Daydreaming maybe."

Susie said nothing. To her it was obvious that Anzu had a lot on her mind - a lot of things and feelings to sort out - and that she wasn't in the mood just yet to candidly 'daydream'.

"Ronnie just came back from Orlando and she owed us shots from a bet she lost, so she's taking us all tonight to Delle Donne's."

Anzu retrieved all the mental notes she'd taken from Susie's anecdotes. She obviously hadn't met Ronnie yet, as she had left for an extensive business trip a week before Anzu arrived. She was also the girl with a spicy sex life, and Delle Donne's was this mythical corporate bar she kept hearing about even though nobody in the office really seemed to actually go there all that often.

"Yeah, sure," Anzu replied. She had refused previous social invitations from Susie, pretending that she had a lot to catch up on to make up for Stan's absence. But she actually worked so hard and diligently that she was now ahead of her time, lending her help to the other branches of accounting whenever she could. Consequently, her traditional excuse didn't stand.

Susie smiled triumphantly and clapped her hands. Today she was wearing lime green nail polish. "You'll love it. They make the best cosmos."

"I'm just here for the free shot, though," warned Anzu jokingly. "You don't get to see me drunk." She smiled playfully.

Susie pouted, as if she'd been seen through. The girl was really easy to read. But then again, Anzu suspected that she only let people read certain things and not others. Like why her ex had flowers delivered to the office not once but twice since Anzu's tenure here.

.

So this Ronnie person was a smooth talker, Anzu realized after she cheered for the umpteenth toast with the half consumed cosmo - offered, or rather, imposed on by said Ronnie - she'd been nursing for half an hour.

"It's nice to see you smile," said an inebriated Susie a few decibels too loud.

Interestingly enough, the comment made Anzu smile, by reflex. Which caused Susie to yelp.

"I love it! I just love it!" She was starting to make as much sense as the rest of her more than moderately drunk coworkers who had tried, collectively, to tell Anzu the story behind the bet that Ronnie had lost... Anzu smiled at first while listening to the disconnected fragments of their story, feigning interest, then with an amused smile, then with a polite frown that barely concealed the 'you're not making any sense, guys' that was written all over her features.

"It's always like this," said a voice behind her shoulder - left or right, Anzu didn't know which and she had to steady herself because her head felt like it kept spinning even after she stopped moving.

"There. Are you alright?"

Anzu still couldn't identify the owner of the smooth, male voice. She realized that one: she was losing her balance; two: a protective palm had been lurking, on guard, behind her scapula and three: that hand might have prevented her from falling off her stool just now. She tried to sit up straight and more or less succeeded. looking at the man's face, bemused.

"I don't think we've ever met." The man had dark eyes and hair, and pleasant features overall. "I work on the fourth floor, at m-"

"Marketing," she said, or rather, slurred in unison with him. What that fact was supposed to explain, she didn't know. She wanted to ask him, but she forgot what she had been wanting to ask him, and she wouldn't be able to string a coherent sentence together if she wanted to. Then she felt something wet on her fingers. And knee.

"Oops, let me- just-" he steadied the glass holding her drink before it spilled completely on her.

"They're black," she said, referring to her pants. And shirt. And everything. Black washed well. It didn't matter. But she didn't like the wet. She felt her grip on the glass weaken and saw the man take it from her and set it aside on a nearby counter. Far from her reach.

Around them, their coworkers' yelps and deep chested bouts of laughter seemed to even out into ambient noise.

"Let me get you a cab." He was already dialing on his cell phone. Anzu gave him a quick look over. He looked about her age but more mature, but maybe that was due to the fact that he was drinking pop and not tequila, and he was well dressed, too. Clean, crisp white dress shirt.

"Marketing you say?" She was impressed with herself for uttering that in one shot. Her lips felt like jello. She couldn't believe how quickly those shots had gotten to her brain. Treacherous.

And she knew Susie would nag her about not being drunk soon enough (because at the moment she was way too drunk herself to pay attention to the new serious girl from Domino who wore nothing but black because she was mourning her late boyfriend).

"I'm Hassan." Time seemed to stretch.

Hassan. Anzu's smile - her cheeks had started to hurt from all the alcohol induced smiling - faltered.

She knew what that word meant. _Hassan_. It was one of the first words she had learned on a fateful Valentine's Day, naively, so she could tell Yuugi...

And there. She said it. _Yuugi_. Again. After weeks of imposed abstinence, Anzu's guard had fallen and her brain tricked her into uttering his name. Silently, to herself, but it was all the same. The name of the man she tried to get over, so she could get her life back.

She must've been commpletely transparent, because even in the dim light of the bar she could read on the man's face complete and utter concern.

"Are you feeling sick?" he asked.

And no, she shook her head and her vision spun, she was only feeling wet. On her knee. And finger. She wiped her left hand on her pants without thinking. A second later, a bright white paper napkin entered her field of vision.

"Thank you." She grabbed it and just held it in her hand, forgetting that she was supposed to wipe her hand on it in the first place, so she let it rest, idle. Anzu stared at the man's face for what felt like eternity.

"The cab's here. Is this your coat? Your purse?"

"Yes," she replied without looking. She trusted everyone here and if she'd gotten the wrong ID she could bring it to work the next day an return it to its owner.

The coat was flung over her shoulders and Anzu followed Hassan, who waved to the rest of the group, out of the bar and into the street.

It took a few minutes for Anzu to realize that the cab was moving, and that Hassan was in it, with her.

"Where are you going?" Her voice sounded strangely naive, even to her own ears.

Hassan chuckled. A sparkle of genuine laughter. He had a pleasant, deep voice, and his teeth shone bright.

"You are going home. Anzu?"

"Yes, Anzu." She thought for a moment. "Wait, how do you know my name?"

He laughed again, and she found it beautiful.

"Everyone heard about you." He then withdrew slightly, becoming aware just now that this wasn't perhaps the best thing to say. Who hadn't heard about the tragic circumstances surrounding the disappearance of the King of Games? Yuugi had been active in a number of philanthropic organizations shortly before his death, appearing in media nationwide for a number of charities and fund-raising events. Everybody, even non-gamers, were bereft when the bad news came.

Anzu had managed to stay out of the gruesome limelight of public mourning. Within her new company though, news traveled fast. It took less than a day for every employee to know about her presence in the building. Who knew Yuugi Mutou's widow was a management accountant, and a high profile one at that!

The cab had stopped moving for a while now. The bar wasn't a long ride from her home. She pretty much lived downtown.

"Are you going to be okay?" asked the man earnestly. She wouldn't call him Hassan. She didn't even know him.

"Yes."

But she stayed put in the cab, giving no indication that she was going to move any time soon.

"Are you sure? _Just-_ just hold on," Hassan then told the driver.

Hassan.

Beautiful.

Hassan meant beautiful.

She closed her eyes to focus on the meaning of the word.

_Beautiful._

Anzu felt a budding headache nestle itself just behind her forehead.

Her door opened by itself. She hadn't realized that Hassan - no, the man - had gotten off the cab and was now helping her stand up.

"I'm alright," she repeated, leaning on the cab for balance.

She still let herself be walked to the front door.

"I'm alright," she repeated, but more convincingly this time.

The man smiled, resigned but reassured. "Okay." He handed her her purse. "I'm sorry you got caught up into this. They drink like Irish dock workers," he offered as an explanation.

It took a time before she understood what he was talking about. "Oh." She chuckled weakly and started fishing around for her keys. She'd have to tidy up that purse.

"Sleep well. Don't feel like you need to come in tomorrow morning," he added quickly, with the sort of confidence only a boss can exhibit. But he wasn't her boss and Anzu probably made more money than he did.

She didn't watch him walk back to the cab or wave goodbye after she managed to unlock the front door. She knew she would be excused if she slept in tomorrow morning.

Because she was the widow of the King of Games and that could earn her a lot of permissions if she wanted to take advantage of them.

But no, instead she took a vow of celibacy of unspecified length and wore nothing but black.

She was going to be alright.

Yes.

She was going to be alright.

.

_tbc_

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_domestication (3/4)_

_let me tell you about the birds and the bees (4/4)_


	3. domestication

**wash with similar colours**

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peachshipping anzu x yuugi

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drama, post-canon, oc

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**domestication** (3/4)

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She got up diligently when her alarm clock rang, and made her way to work unscathed. She even had time to grab a coffee (the usual, Ms Mazaki?) and an Italian baked good at her favorite coffee shop.

Everyone she remembered she saw at the bar seemed to have recovered from last night's drinking episode. No one made a point to bring it up at the office.

Anzu spent the morning filing papers and labeling files, a brainless task she meant to do for the last week and a half, and which was just perfect for her current situation. Her current hangover situation.

A few coworkers approached her to chit chat a bit. More than usual. Perhaps she seemed like a more open minded person now that she had finally agreed to join the crew 'to the bar'.

Perhaps it was due to her unusually numerous trips to the water fountain and her two short breaks taken at the employee kitchen, spent making herself some herbal tea that would help her stomach set.

"Hey."

That same soft voice, but without the reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Anzu turned around.

"Hello Hassan." She smiled, leaned against the counter with the heel of her palm. "How are you?"

"I should be asking you the same." He didn't lean against anything. Stood straight. Looked her in the eye, but not in an intimidating way. "How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad actually. Better by the minute." She wanted to cross her arms, to fold them against her chest, to hug herself, anything. Why did she feel so at odds with herself just now?

She wouldn't find out whether Hassan had anything to do with it, because at that very moment a male co-worker she hadn't been introduced to walked by and initiated a lively conversation about some humorous mishap that happened to someone both men knew. Anzu went back to her kettle and chamomile tea. From the corner of her eye, she could see that Hassan, while being politely engaged in his friend's monologue, made sure he still somehow faced Anzu. He looked like he was trying to avoid being rude to either. Anzu shook her head slightly as the friend walked away, suddenly self-aware that she was judging - no, analyzing the man's behaviour. She started to wipe crumbs off the counter, waiting for the water to boil.

"Let's go out for lunch." Anzu froze for a moment, then spun on her heel. This was the last thing she'd been expecting to hear from him - no, at all. Unlike Yuugi's voice, Hassan's was warm and welcoming, yet comfortingly assertive. Not allowing her to even doubt that it was a great idea, and they'd have a good time. Yuugi's invitations, even after they'd gotten married, had always sounded like pleas. He'd never quite gotten past the 'she loves me back!' revelation.

"... I, um..." She opened her mouth, and let the corners stir up a quizzical smile, against her own will.

"If you like fusion Mexican, I know a place," he intervened, having confirmed that she was not against the idea. "Casa Verde on Lincoln."

"I know Casa Verde" was all that could escape Anzu's strangled throat.

.

She sat at her desk, cup in hand, and searched blindly for a coaster. Not finding any, she brought the hot liquid to her lips, staring absent mindedly into space, or rather, at the abstract painting hung next to her office door. The burning sensation on her tongue, and the subsequent brief, but equally burning drop on her lap brought her back to reality. She had accepted to go on some sort of preliminary date with a charming man she barely knew.

Something in him put her at ease though. Maybe the softness of his traits, his round eyes, the mica-like depth of his irises... Or just the steadiness of his hands, his upright but never tense posture, his overall calm and quietly confident demeanour...

Whatever she'd order at noon, she wouldn't be able to touch. Neither her stomach or her tongue would allow it. She reached for a paper tissue to bloat the tea off her pants.

She was getting used to wear black.

Nothing could stain black fabric.

.

Exactly a week and hundreds of healed taste buds later, Anzu was sitting at the small table by the entrance of the Casa Verde, facing the bustle of Lincoln Avenue. And facing Hassan.

"I told you you wouldn't regret coming back," he chuckled as Anzu gobbled down the last sip of her horchata smoothie. She wiped the corner of her lips with a napkin, and smiled.

He smiled back.

This was a bright day and had been a bright morning - she'd completed the semi-annual report on one of their biggest files many hours earlier than originally planned. She'd been practically walking on clouds at break when Hassan stumbled upon her again, and her voice was many decibels too loud when she replied 'of course!' to his fifth invitation.

"So you... told me you liked theater," he begun.

Anzu stopped chewing on her spinach burrito. This time, yes, she admitted to herself that she had been hoping he would take things a little further. She had been waiting for this.

_Oh, Yuugi, dear_.

She didn't register the name of the play. She didn't mind the young waiter sticking his arm in her face to reach for her glass of water. She didn't hear the dull clink of ice cubes against the plastic glass. She could see herself greeted by Hassan upon exiting the streetcar, holding onto his arm along with other couples walking idly to the venue, feel his warmth, sitting next to him, bringing her hands to her mouth when laughing, catching his gaze on her hand or knee between two acts...

"Yes," she replied a little to quickly to her liking.

.

_tbc_

.

_let me tell you about the birds and the bees (4/4)_

_(epilogue? 5/4)_

_._

_the author will cherish your feedback and reviews ~_


	4. the birds and the bees

**wash with similar colours**

.

peachshipping anzu x yuugi

.

drama, post-canon, oc

.

**let me tell you about the birds and the bees** (4/4)

.

Miho and Honda came over the next weekend. They said this was a daytrip for them but Anzu knew they were really coming to check on her. Their car was parked in the visitor spot because Anzu was renting out her spot to a colleague living in the suburbs.

It had been a hectic morning, taking the kids to the central mall, store hopping for shoes because there weren't any good ones in Domino, insisted Miho, much to Tristan's dismay.

'Actually, do you want to go back to the mall?'

Miho's emotional recovery sense tingled. 'Take that', she mouthed to Honda, handing him the purple plastic zipper she was trying to fasten on her wriggling boy. "Like, shopping? Actual shopping?" Both women noticed the multiple sales going on at the mall earlier this morning, but the kids had made it impossible to actually check them out.

Anzu nodded coyly.

Miho smiled.

Honda would be going alone to the park with the kids.

.

"You're not really shopping for boots, are you" blurted Miho in front of the evening dresses section. The department store wasn't as packed as it could be on a weekend afternoon. Maybe the good weather chased all the yuppies and young families to the park. Miho wondered for a second how Honda was faring on his own.

"I guess I'm not," admitted Anzu simply. She approached one of the long sleeved black dresses and felt the fabric.

Miho gave her a knowing look. Anzu just cocked her head and let the sleeve drop. She had plenty of black already in her wardrobe.

"Anzu..."

She knew she wasn't getting away with a revelation like that.

"Actually, I think I have a date with a guy from work."

There. Out. She heaved her shoulders, taking a deep breath.

"You think you have a date?"

"Well, we're only going to see a play."

"Alone?"

"With him," Anzu almost whispered back, shyer by the second.

"I know - I mean, alone with him?"

Anzu nodded.

"So it's a date, then," concluded Miho triumphantly.

"I guess."

"There's no I guess with love, Anzu. These things are visceral. Gut feelings. You're supposed to know. I think you know. How long have you known this guy? On a personal basis I mean."

The girls walked silently, absent mindedly through the stacks of formal wear. A pair of heels on display caught Anzu's eye, but they were fuchsia, therefore not black, and she lowered her hand before she could even reach them.

"We've been going out for lunch for a little over a week."

Miho raised an eyebrow.

"And he's helped me. I mean, I owe him." Anzu had thought it better not to reveal the whole drunken incident to Miho. She didn't need to know all her w-

"Oh, cut the crap, Anzu Mazaki. You're rationalizing." Miho grabbed Anzu by the shoulders and forced the unnaturally timid woman to face her. "There's only one, just one question that matters here." She paused for dramatic effect. Anzu couldn't help but smile a little, remembering how Miho took things seriously back in high school when she gave dating advice to other girls.

"Do you want this to be a date or not?"

Anzu gave it some thought. Not that she didn't know the answer. She didn't know whether she was ready or not to actually say that answer. She sighed loudly.

"I... Yes. I g-" Anzu stopped herself when she saw Miho's brows knitting. "Yes," she restated, loud and clear.

"Good."

Miho brought Anzu closer in a hug.

.

Anzu didn't eat, even though this wasn't officially 'dinner and a movie'. But she wasn't hungry, either.

She was too anxious to be hungry.

Perhaps guilt had a role to play in that, too.

It felt weird to look at herself, to study herself in the mirror so closely. She tried on every earrings she owned that weren't liked to Yuugi. Twice. None looked good.

None of her jewelry that could matched the hue of her new dress. Gold was too flashy; silver was too cold, anything else was too girly. She was an adult, she was a woman, she was a widow.

It was time that she begin to see herself as something else than one, though.

She turned, stretched. Her buttocks looked fit and firm.

Somehow, she didn't feel like she would be able to say that 'yes' the same way she did to Miho, a week ago. She wasn't sure what she wanted.

Was this even a date at all?

She was less and less sure.

Maybe it wasn't a date. She toyed with that thought all week long, even in Hassan's company during their shared lunch trips, she had dismissed the thought and wrestled with it. Bizarrely, the man hadn't brought it up again except for today at Casa Verde, when he parted with her on the words 'I'll see you tonight'.

He called her exactly thirty minutes after she arrived home from work. They agreed to meet at the café inside the theater. He wasn't picking her up.

She didn't know what to think about fany of this, and was too afraid to ask anyone about it. She didn't want to appear childish to Miho; she didn't want to spread rumours at work; she didn't want to look like she was betraying Yuugi to anyone from Domino.

And her mother, well, that was another story. Her mother never quite accepted Yuugi from the start, and Anzu never brought up the topic again, even when it looked like her mom had finally accepted or, at best, come to terms with the fact that her daughter was marrying a shorter male, and a public personality at that.

She looked at her watch. It was time to go.

Anzu threw on a black scarf, black overcoat, classy black boots that she didn't wear at work and black gloves.

She locked the door to her condo, walked a few steps, stopped to take off her watch, walked back, unlocked the door and tossed the watch on a nearby counter.

.

Walking to the theater took more time than expected. A light evening rain had dampened the cobble stoned streets of old downtown and she was extra careful not to slip.

Despite the risk they caused the streets were pretty, glistening under the lights. Other high heeled shoes like hers echoed here and there. Laughter could be heard from time to time. Some people had already started to drink.

Anzu saw the old theater many times during some of her evening walks, but never like this.

This time, _she_ was 'the bustle', _she_ was one of the pretty people, the affluent and happy, trendy people going to see live theater at a local venue.

And she was not going alone.

All she had was to slip through the thickening crowd and find Hassan inside, at the café.

She imagined him waiting for her, reading a novel or short story collection, instead of the freely available newspapers. It would be hard to recognize him; everyone seemed to be wearing black, just like her.

She wondered if anyone was wearing black for the same reasons she did.

"You made it." He'd managed to raise his voice enough to grab her attention, but not too much so as not to yell.

Anzu was slightly relieved that she wouldn't have to search for him amongst the other patrons, but her heart still jumped a little in her chest.

"Good evening."

She wondered, from the slight wetness in his hair, if he had been caught in the late afternoon drizzle - he wasn't carrying an umbrella. Hassan smelled like rosemary and sandalwood.

And, as she was asking herself for the two hundredth time how she should be acting around him tonight, he leaned toward her to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. His hand found its way on her forearm, landing like a butterfly, lingering on a few seconds after the greeting was over.

"You fit right in with these people," he joked.

At first she wasn't sure what he was referring to.

Then it hit her.

Wearing black.

Every person gathered here was wearing black.

He was the first one, since Domino, to mention it. No one at work dared bringing up that topic - her widowhood. Time stopped; her lower lip hung open and her tongue dried up.

But he didn't seem to notice. She could see him from the corner of an eye sporting a happy grin.

Pride. The sort that swells the heart with love until it bursts.

He placed an arm over her shoulders, guiding her towards the theater entrance.

Anzu walked along with him in clumsy steps, her mind clearly elsewhere. It was only then that an obvious fact came to her mind: he was taller than her, taller than Yuugi.

It felt strange. Good, though.

But strange.

Her cheek were hot; she suddenly felt the need to stay outdoors. She stiffened, but forced herself to keep walking. "Actually, want to walk for a bit?"

He broke away from her, eyeing her for a split second. The grin cooled off a little. "Of course."

They walked side by side, circumventing the crowd. His hands were hidden in his pockets; hers were gripping her faux leather purse.

No word was exchanged.

Anzu noticed a change in his behaviour. He acted more like a colleague and less like a date. Was she also coming across as slightly distant?

She wished she kept the watch.

They stopped at a street light. "Shall we go back?"

"We don't have to go," replied Hassan. He opened his mouth to add to his offer, but the thought trailed off, a cloud of mist in mid-air. In autumn-turning-to-winter air.

"It's not what I meant," replied Anzu hastily for the circumstances.

He had been offering her a way out of this... situation. Was this what he had been mulling over in silence, as they walked side by side, together but alone in the bustling city? Had he been also anxiously asking himself the proper way, if there was any, to go about asking a widow out? Had he been asking himself all along, even when he looked so composed and sure of himself?

Anzu risked turning her head. Looked at him.

He was staring into the distance, as if tacitly seeing off the hordes of diners and movie-goers crossing the street on a newly green light.

"I am..."

When it became evident she either didn't know what to say or whether she was going to say what was on her mind, he stepped in. Again.

"Listen I'm sorry. I understand. We don't have to go through this. You're going through -" he paused - "I can't possibly know what you're going through."

The street light was red again. A small crowd encircled them again, little by little.

I don't understand it myself, thought Anzu.

"I'm not..." He sighed. "I think you're an attractive woman." Then: "I might have... I don't know. I might have been insistent."

Anzu stayed silent.

He'd been the one to initiate every step of what some people would call 'a budding relationship'. She couldn't argue with that. But was it insistence? Was this thing one sided? Did she yearn for him, or did she merely yearn for human warmth?

He turned to her. His gaze lost some of its strength.

His beard, already short to start with, had been trimmed, she noticed. And he wore a brown peacoat he never took to work.

She gazed back at him with pleading eyes. Not that she wanted something out of him; she wanted something out of herself. She wanted to know... what it was she wanted.

And if she didn't act now, she'd lose an opportunity to find out.

"I want to go."

In her voice was the same assurance she had when opening up to Miho.

She lowered her eyes and grabbed his naked hand with hers, gloved. She felt his warm even through the leather. "Let's go."

The street light turned green again but they turned around and walked against the human current, side by side, back to the theater.

In silence.

Except that this silence wasn't empty. It was blooming, full, engorged with unspoken wishes.

.

They arrived at the last minute, searching for their seats in the dark theater. They settled in just as the before the show started. The very last lights faded just as Anzu was taking her coat off.

She would have wanted him to see the special dress she was wearing.

Needless to say, neither paid much attention to the play.

Anzu found herself reminiscing some intimate moments she and Yuugi had shared. Much to her surprise, the moments were blurry. They were more and more like fragments of impressions, rather than full blown memories. She could remember pleasure, tenderness, laughter. None of this thing called 'arousal' inhabited her memories.

She was experiencing, however, some for the man sitting by her side. Or maybe she was wishing herself to feel arousal for him. Or to feel arousal at all.

He was a pleasant man, and quite easy on the eye, there was no arguing about that. But she knew very little about this man. And this man knew little about her. Actually, because of her association with Yuugi and because of his fame, Hassan might have heard things about her she didn't even know were being made known to the public. She had never kept up with what the tabloids had to say about her or the King of Games.

She felt him shifting in his seat and wondered if he was anticipating the intermission as much as she was.

He must've caught sight of her turning her head, for did the same and smile to her. On the stage, an argument between two siblings - or were they cousins? - was escalating into screams. An object came crashing against something, which startled them. Anzu had to stifle a giggle. She brought a naked hand to her face. Hassan's eyes lowered to her other hand, inter on her lap, holding a limp glove.

They patiently waited until the very last lights dimmed, blacked out, and stood up when the applause, roaring as loud as Anzu's heart, started.

Then the lights were turned on again and the pair laid eyes on one another. Anzu's cheeks were red; she noticed budding pearls of sweat on his forehead. She rummaged through her purse and handed him a handkierchief she carried with her for that sole purpose.

Hassan stopped clapping, staring at a non-descript point on Anzu's clavicle.

The fabric of her dress.

Anzu suddenly became self aware of the colour she was now wearing.

Purple.

She retracted her hand and stuffed the handkierchief back in her purse. Licked her lip nervously.

Then Hassan broke free of his trance. "Want to leave?" There was a sense of urgency in his voice.

"Yes," she replied meekly.

A heavy feeling nested itself in the bottom of Anzu's stomach. She had wanted to show him that she wasn't a widow anymore by wearing this coloured dress, well that's how shw had felt at the time, when she bought it, with Miho.

Now she wasn't so sure anymore, and she knew Hassan knew.

They dressed a little clumsily, eager to leave the fading waves of applause, to leave the stuffed air of the theater, to go somewhere they could clear their minds. Together.

She threw her scarf over her shoulder and fastened every button of her coat so as to hide the purple fabric.

He was following her this time, rather than ushering her around.

"Do you want-"

"-to go for a walk?"

They had spoken at the same time.

They nodded eagerly to one another and set forth, Anzu leading the way that would take her to her condo.

Anzu didn't know what to say. She felt like a bundle of contradictions. And she felt bad for misleading him.

Or was she? Was she simply confused? She had no intention of playing games with him, toying around for her own benefit like she'd seen Mai do with Joey an every other male that crossed her path. Anzu wasn't that type of person.

Nonetheless, she felt dirty. The dress had been revealed at a moment less than climatic... And she could tell from his silence he was still struggling to put the pieces together.

"You..."

He said no more.

"I know everyone at work noticed, and yet nobody asked. Why I'm stubbornly wearing black like an old Sicilian lady. I know it's strange..."

They turned a corner, taking a side street that would eventually narrow and become a back alley a few blocks from now. Anzu would never take that route alone at night, but the present company made her feel safe. Late night down was now a mere distant hum behind them. They were alone.

"It's not strange."

"Thank you," she half-whispered.

She then took a deep breath, as if to give herself strength for the confession or resolution to come.

But she kept silent.

"I feel pretty blessed that you're still around. You're not easy to approach, y'know. Even if this evening isn't going as smoothly as I expected, I'm pretty happy right now." His voice had taken on a deep, rich texture, and it glided gently against the damp walls of the back alley. "I'm... I'll be honest with you. I want this. I really do. I've given this a lot of thought... And honestly even though I don't want to pressure you and all, I mean you're going through a lot right now obviously, I just hope you're also, I mean, that you're seeing me that way, too."

They were one block away from her building. There wasn't much time left, and whatever she'd say now would make it or break it. He'd laid it out for her in the open; it was her turn to make a move.

If only she knew what she wanted.

She wanted to feel attachment. And she was attracted to this man. But it was not the same type of attraction she had felt for Yuugi, and frankly, he had been the only man she'd been seriously in love with, even though she'd never admitted it.

She just wasn't sure she wanted to get the ball rolling with this man, this broad shouldered but lean, educated and open-minded man who had made it very clear he wanted her even more than she wanted him.

She wasn't sure she was ready to use the words 'us' again, or if she'd ever be.

She slowed down and he matched her speed as she climbed the half step leading to the front door of her condo building. She turned to him and he set himself in front of her.

She lowered her eyes, but didn't make a move to reach for her keys.

They both stayed still. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting for a catalyst.

She lifted her eyes to see him studying her.

She leaned forward imperceptibly and so did he - then the formidable, expected, anticipated happened - he lifted her hands to cup her face, cradle her head and hair, took a half step forward until his forehead met hers, closed his eyes while she simply felt unable to do so, she took in his warmth and the whiffs of sandalwood and the oscillating artificial flow of the overhead light above them, the wet sound of a car passing on the street, and he kissed her.

He kissed her and all she could think of was Yuugi on their wedding day, Yuugi's little hands and always cold fingers giving her shivers when he caressed her. She tried to chase the thoughts away and kiss back the wonderful man - and great kisser - who was giving herself to her, but all she managed was unglue her tongue from her palate and breathe in. Cool air came rushing in her mouth and she chocked, broke free, stepped back, brought a gloved hand to her throat. The coolness of the leather helped fend off her budding nausea.

Nothing could be done for the tears. They were blurring her vision. She couldn't tell what he was thinking and coughed up a first sob that echoed loudly in the street. She took rapid, short breaths. Her chest shook and trembled as she breathed.

"I'm sorry..." she let out, "I'm not..."

She stopped forcing herself to keep her eyes open and took a deep breath. She felt friendly arms bring her into a protective embrace. All she could do in lieu of an apology was repeat this broken sentence between sobs, like a mantra:

"I don't think I can do this... Don't think I can do this..."

.

.

_fin _

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**A/N** I've been quiet over the last few chapters, I know. This is the fourth and last installment of this story. It was originally a oneshot plunny. Why oneshot? Because I was busy, at the time, writing for a contest set in a strict oneshot format. I also had given up on experimenting with the multi-chapter format - I've never been able to complete any of the multis I've started before now. So this is a first and I'm quite happy about that.

I know this fic is far from perfect - there are way too ellipses, not enough canon cast, too much OC, and I don't rely quite enough on building atmosphere, the one thing that people say I can write decently. It might also feel a little bit rushed at time. But I had to write and publish this story despite all its flaws. It's a stepping stone that will allow me to write on longer projects, including those in progress (Blackout, a genderbent batteryshipping). It was also written during emotionally turbulent times - I've been quite busy with great changes that, in turn, caused me to question myself about who I am and where I am in my life.

One thing that's interesting about this story is that it started off as one single, little line: the last one, the very last sentence of the story. The fatal truth Anzu admits to herself and to the man who happened to be there at the wrong time and place in her life. I don't really know where they'll take it from there, and since I wrote the whole thing just to be able to use that line, I don't think I want to know. I wanted to tell the story of a woman (not a teenager, they are getting enough representation in fandom) struggling with herself. Or at least part of her story, because life never really ends, does it? This isn't a story about loss, or at least not the loss of a significant other as the summary lets on; it's a story about identity, about having to come to to terms with a new self while shaping that new self at the same time.

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_special thanks to Jonouchi Katsuya for beta reading :)_


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